[Reviews - 100]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 4470 times

- Text Size +




REBEL HEARTS


Chapter 2: ‘Visions and Ghosts’


Buffy Summers-Finn hurried down the huge staircase of her husband’s plantation. She had lifted her huge, hooped dress skirt to give her more room for speed as she virtually flew down the the steps and out the front door of the house. Jacob, Mahalia’s husband and one of the most loyal, finest men Buffy had ever known, had sent his wife up to warn Finnwood’s mistress of the nearing British Army. Sure enough, from where Jacob, Mahalia and now Buffy stood on the front porch, they could all see the advancing red coated troops, nearing the property. “They seem to be less then a mile away,” Buffy stated, suddenly very frightened by the sight.

“Missy Finn,” Mahalia whispered, “maybe you should take young Andrew and flee while you still can. We’ll be fine, I’ve heard the British are not that interested in slaves, only the masters and their land. Miss Buffy,” Mahalia took her Mistress’s arm gently, “you don’t owe Mister Riley nothin’. He’s been a monster to you, we both know that. Go on now, take Andrew and leave this place. Let them men burn it to the ground, who cares?”

Buffy did not respond, she just worried her lower lip and watched as the Army came closer by the minute. “No,” Buffy whispered, thinking of her husband’s sickly young cousin upstairs in his room, “Andrew would not make it a mile before he collapsed anyway. He’s too ill and frail. We’ll stay, Halia, all of us. I’m sure the British Officers in charge only want food and quarters for their men, nothing more. Most of the Officers in the King’s Army are blue bloods, Lords and such, I’ve known one or two of those in my time. They are usually quite genteel and more then likely will treat us with respect and decorum. Besides, if the British are interested in men like my husband, they will just track us down anyway and we would never be able to outrun them.

Please do not fret, Halia, I have you and Jacob with me. We can face down half of the King’s militia if need be. It will be all right.” Mahalia looked less then assured, but she nodded her head and continued to stare out in the distance. Jacob saw the front rider first, a scout probably, and sounded the alarm to his Master’s young wife. “That would be a scout or lookout Missy,” he explained, “those soldiers send them first. Old Master Snyder, his man Solemon, he told me that last month. Some British Captain, up in Virginia, he got angry with an owner up there, burned the farm to the ground after he ordered the animals shot and everyone put out of the house.” Buffy shivered in terror, “oh God,” she hissed under her breath as the British scout arrived at their doorstep.


Flashback; Circa 1775, Boston, Mass; Buffy’s POV


Buffy meandered through Jennifer Gile’s beautiful and quite famous rose gardens, stopping now and then to smell the lovely fragrances of the various flowers. She was alone, quite inappropriately, in the gardens tonight, having left the commotion of the party goers inside the Gile’s Mansion. With a sigh, Buffy sat on the little stone bench in the middle of the huge gardens, just slightly chilled from the Spring night air in Boston. Alexander Harris, her childhood friend, and most certainly her beloved cousin, Anya’s future husband had talked Buffy into sneaking out into the gardens. It was highly unacceptable that Buffy be unescorted in the gardens, but since it was she, Elizabeth Buffy Summers that was in question, then not much was unheard of here. Buffy thought perhaps Xander Harris was interested in talking to her about Anya and eagerly agreed to meet him outside in the nippy cool air. So far, however, Xander was no where to be seen and Buffy was just about ready to return to the party inside, the warmth of the inner household, when she heard a distinctly British voice behind her.

“Arise fair sun and kill the envious moon; who is already sick and pale with grief. That thou her maid art far more fair then she;
Be not her maid, since she is envious…” Buffy heard the pompous Lord William Anderson quote.
Buffy rolled her green eyes and stifled a wicked laugh, “oh please, Lord Anderson,” she chuckled, “quoting the Great Bard of Avon? Do you think that your borrowed words and plagered fancy prose of the Master poet, Great Will Shakespeare will turn my silly young fancy to you?" The British Lord said good naturedly, “I can only hope, Miss Summers,” he responded lightly as he stepped out of the shadows to greet her. “Well,” Buffy sighed wistfully, scooching over just a little to allow the Englishman to sit next to her, “do not hope for too much. I am a betrothed woman, promised to my Father’s good friend, Master Riley Finn.” She felt the young Brit flinch beside her his whole demeanor became tense. “Perhaps I could persuade you to forget that bloody ponce you’re engaged to, who, by the way appears to be quite a ways away from his intended. Why, may I ask?”

Buffy flinched this time, feeling quite peckish that this brazen, stranger from across the sea had even asked such a personal question. However, for some reason she felt compelled to answere him, at least somewhat. “Well, not that it is any of your concern,” she began carefully, pulling a bit further from him as he moved closer to her, “but my future husband is away, on business. He left his home for Louisianna a week or so ago. Business, as I said, something to do with King Cotton and all. It is of little concern to me, especially now, before we marry and that will not be for at least a year or so. This is Boston, Lord Anderson, not the Southern Colonies and I do not agree with the ages that some young ladies marry down there. I choose to stay betrothed only, for the present, seeing to my parents and their needs here in New England, for now that is.”

The silver haired man beside her laughed loudly, “choose to stay betrothed only? Oh please,” he shook his handsome head. “You choose to stay ‘betrothed’ only because your foolish Father has placed you in an impossible situation. Xander Harris is my best friend and has shared quite a bit of information about you, your family and this idiot your old man has enslaved you to. Riley Finn, my dear girl, has a terrible reputation in the South and up here. Frankly…” Buffy had heard enough and bolted up from her place on the bench, “do not speak of my future husband, Lord Anderson.” He grinned widely at her, “I said to call me William.” She shook her head defiantly, “I’ll call you Lord Anderson. Fits you better I think. Anyway, as much as I adore my Xander, my good friend, I know how one-sided his opinion of my Father and Riley might just be. Besides, speaking of reputations and terrible in the same sentence? Hmph, Xander’s reputation with liquer and women is notorious, as I am sure yours is. I’ll say goodnight sir.” She turned to leave the presence of this uppity, pompous, no matter how good looking young man in a huff. However, he had other ideas, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to him.

“Why would you allow your foolish Father, the all mighty Hank Summers, to marry you off to this wanker in South Carolina. Sequester you down there on some bloody stupid farm, hidden away from a fullfilling life of fun and parties. They are much more suited to you Buffy, much more. You belong in a world of high society, galas and soirees that befit a beautiful lady like you. In my world, British society, you could shine like you should,” the Lord scowled down at her, making her realize just how short she really was. “Oh, so I suppose I belong in England, with your peers, royal snobs and socialites. With you I suppose, on your arm?” He grinned and nodded with enthusiasm. “You do not even know me,” she stated harshly, trying to pull away from his grasp. “Oh, I know you,” he purred, “I have known you for years. In my dreams, in my visions. Known you right down to your emerald colored eyes and the little heart shaped birthmark you have on your…” Buffy finally succeeded in escaping his clasping hands.

“I’ll be leaving now,” she hissed as she turned, once again, to escape his insufferable presence. Before she could get away, however, he caught her once more and pulled her into his strong arms. She shivered despite her best efforts and not from the chilled air, certainly. “Cold, luv?” he chuckled, wrapping his long arms about her, holding to him tightly. “Hardly,” she murmered trying not to shiver again from the tingle his touch caused her. “Buffy,” he rasped, pulling her chin up so her eyes could meet his. ‘Gosh,’ she thought hazily, ‘he has the bluest eyes I have ever seen.’ “Don’t rush away from me, my sweet,” he murmered as he nuzzled her ear with his overly soft lips. “I cannot help who and what I am, anymore then you can. Or that we have met at a really inopportune time, but please believe me, we have met for a reason. I am only asking that you think about what we feel between us, and don’t shake your head, girl. You feel it also, this heat and desire that we felt the minute we laid eyes on each other.” Buffy did not bother to struggle against this handsome, mystical man, rather she lay her golden head against his chest and sighed sorrowfully. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered against his chest, “I am promised to another. Besides,” she scrunched up her brow in thought, “we will be enemies, and soon I fear.”

“As I said in the house Lord Anderson, I mean William,” she sighed in resignation. “There will be a war between the Colonies and your Motherland, it is inevitable.” William snorted and bravely kissed the top of her soft golden head, “I don’t give a bloody hell about a war at this moment. I just want you, need you, Buffy and look,” he pointed up at the bright moonlight, “that’s all you and I should care about tonight. I’ve searched for years for you, just did not know where to really look, until now. Buffy shivered again, this time in frustrated need, even she could not ignore that. “But I do care,” she finally muttered against his chest. “Mark my words, William, this coming war will separate all of us, friends, foes, strangers and families.”

She felt him relax against her, then felt the tell tale sign of his arousal against her front, down below. Before she could say another word, William pulled her chin up again, gently and leaned in to kiss her. Buffy felt his lovely mouth touch hers and she could not resist the pull of electricity that she felt shoot through both of them. Instead of pulling away, like a proper, well brought up young lady of Boston, she responded to his greedy mouth and returned his kisses with equal passion. “Buffy!” they heard Anya cry from a nearby balcony, causing Miss Summers to jump back from William, startled and ashamed, instantly.

“Don’t answere her,” William pleaded hoarsely, holding her tightly to him. “I have to,” she responded, “no matter how reluctantly.” Buffy looked back to the house and up to the second floor where she saw Anya and a very sheepish looking Xander Harris standing together. “Meet me later,” William rasped, clutching at Buffy desperately. “Meet me later tonight, in an hour, no, make that in thirty minutes. I cannot wait an hour for you. I’ll go insane.” Buffy hesitated, glanced up at William then back at the house, “I cannot…” she began cautiously, trying to break his hold on her. “You can,” he rasped, “and you will.” She, Buffy realized that this man was not going to let her go until she made some kind of promise to meet him later on, even if it was a false promise. “Later,” she sighed, “here in the gardens. It must be almost 9:30 PM by now, I’ll be back, at 10:30 sharpe. But only for a moment or two, understand?” Buffy gave the young Brit a stern look, which seemed to only make him smile more then ever. “10:30 PM,” he whispered, “sharpe. And if you miss the appointment, sweet,” he grinned down at her, “I’ll search you out and spank your lovely little bottom. Do ‘you’ understand?” Shivering again with whatever new emotion it was to her, Buffy nodded and broke from his hold. She scurried out of the gardens and back into the huge Gile’s Mansion. Buffy had no intention of keeping her promise to meet the handsome Lord William Anderson. Instead, she would plead a headache and depart the party as soon as possible, because even she realized that some things were more dangerous then rich Plantation Masters and talk of rebellions.


Present Day, South Carolina, 1778


Captain Spike Anderson sat on the makeshift chair in his tent and stared at the charcoal sketch he had drawn months ago. He took the damn thing everywhere he went and set it up in his makeshift quarters. It was ‘her’ Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers, now Finn, drawn from memory in her little pink silk dress that she wore the night she broke his black heart. ‘Bloody little bitch,’ he hissed under his breath as he surveyed the drawing. ‘Stood me up, never gave me a chance. Well,’ he chuckled to himself wickedly, ‘looks like I just found searched you out, Princess. Wonder if you remember that spanking I promised you for not showing?’ Leiutenent Abrams shuffled into the tent, a little too stealthly for Spike, but the Captain just sat and stared at the drawing, sipping his whiskey. “I am here to report that we are less then a mile from the Finn Plantation, sir,” Parker mumbled behind him. “Our scout has gone ahead to ‘ask’ permission to be quartered there. I was wondering, sir,” Abrams hesitated momentarily. “Oh for the bloody fuck, what?” Spike rasped harshly, never taking his eyes from the drawing. “Well, sir,” Parker began, “I was wondering, what shall we do if Mrs. Finn says no to our request.” Spike grinned slowly, finishing the rest of his drink in one gulp. Without bothering to turn to face his Leiutenent, he replied gruffly, “well, then, Abrams, we’ll just burn her fucking farm to the ground. Won’t we?”

Buffy eyed the young British scout warily, “well sir,” she stood straight up and stared right into the mere boy’s eyes. “What do you want?” The young man, who probably wasn’t more then eighteen gave her a half hearted salute and a shy smile. “I am here at the bequest of my Superior Maam,” he stammered, “we, the Fifth Regiment of His Majesty’s Service, request that you give us quarter and lodging. For at least a week or two, Maam.” Buffy sighed and glanced at Jacob and his wife, Mahalia then fixed her gaze back on the young scout before her. “Do I have a choice?” she asked the young man honestly. He shook his head firmly, “no Maam, I do not believe you do. My Superior, Captain William Anderson, would be most unhappy if you turn us away.” Buffy felt an odd shiver shoot through her tiny body, ‘Captain William Anderson,’ she thought, ‘oh dear God, surely not. Anderson is a common name here and back in England, must be someone else.’

Jacob broke in on Buffy’s thoughts, “Missy Finn,” he said under his breath, “that’s the name. The Captain that Soleman spoke of from Virginia. He had that farm burned down and…” Buffy gasped audibly and returned her gaze onto the young man before her, a handsome lad, but hardly old enough for this horrid nonsense. “All right, sir,” she sighed in resignation, “I have no choice but to give your Commander and his troops quarter and lodging. I do not like it and I certainly do not choose it. But, I have no choice.” The young scout sighed in relief and again mock saluted Buffy, “you are a true lady, Maam,” he stated simply, turning his horse about to return to his regiment. As the three people watched the young man return with his good news to his Commander, Mahalia peered at Buffy with true concern. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost Missy,” she whispered, taking her Mistress’s arm in her strong hand. “Mahalia,” Buffy murmered, pale as a ghost herself, she was sure, “hopefully I am wrong, but I may be seeing just that, soon. A ghost that is.”


A/N: Sigh. I know that period pieces are slow to gain acceptance, but please read this one and review if you would. I would like to know if I am capturing the essence of the time and maybe even the ‘speech’ of the era. It’s very important to me. Thanks, Luv, Spuf





You must login (register) to review.